


Leaves from the Vine

by detectivejigsaw



Series: Flipside AU [16]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Dan-centric, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Lumberjack, Summerween, Vietnam War (referenced), day in the life, drabble-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 10:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25349347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivejigsaw/pseuds/detectivejigsaw
Summary: A day in the life of Dan Corduroy.Summerween, to be precise.
Relationships: "Manly" Dan Corduroy & Xander Pines (OC), "Manly" Dan Corduroy/Wendy Corduroy's Mother
Series: Flipside AU [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587223
Comments: 27
Kudos: 79





	Leaves from the Vine

“Okay, let’s go!” Dan ordered the team of manotaurs in front of him. “Mascular, be careful with that end, you’re gonna take someone’s eye out with it! No, that’s _not_ somethin’ you can just walk off! That’s better! Bulbataur, what’d I say about punching on the job?!”

“...To not to,” the manotaur he’d addressed said sulkily.

“So knock it off!” Dan split the tree in front of him with his axe, and then used his gloved hands to pull it the rest of the way apart.

Bulbataur grumbled a little, but he went back to work.

When they had the amount of lumber they needed for the day’s work, Dan had a few manotaurs go back over the land, and after uprooting the stumps and tossing them into the back of the logging truck, they dug into the pouches they were wearing around their waists (definitely do _not_ call them fanny packs unless you want to wind up smashed down so your rib cage is hanging around your ears) and pulled out handfuls of seeds, which they scattered left and right.

“Okay,” Dan muttered to himself, “here’s hopin’ this stuff works.” He gave a new signal to the next group of manotaurs, who began climbing up the nearest trees that were still standing. When they were at a suitable height, they began throwing a series of water balloons down onto the newly formed clearing.

The liquid inside the balloons, despite their name, was not water in this circumstance; instead, it was a strange, bright green liquid that made a slight fizzing noise as it seeped into the ground, and into the seeds which were sticking out on it.

Dan watched from his spot on top of the pile of wood on the truck.

_3...2...1…_

Right on time, the ground began to tremble, as dozens of brand new saplings began to sprout, and slowly (well, very quickly compared to how trees normally grow, but still not as fast as before) rise and extend their branches. By sunset, they were probably going to have finished developing into full-fledged trees. The formula Ford and Fiddleford had created was working like a charm.

And then, of course, the two most argumentative guys in a group of already-argumentative manotaurs had to start going at it.

“Hey, Muscular, ya missed a spot!” Mascular taunted, pointing to a bare patch of earth. “Loser!”

“Your FACE is a loser!” Muscular hefted another water balloon, and before Dan could call out an order for him to stop, he’d hurled it.

It was a direct hit, splattering all across Mascular’s face and chest.

After about three seconds, his upper body began to tremble.

Dan facepalmed.

“Oh no.”

* * *

It was an hour before the hair stopped growing long enough for them to successfully cut it. By that time it had covered about a mile’s worth of forest, by snaking its way between the trees, the bushes, and anything else that got in its way.

Dan had to do some _very_ fast talking to a colony of pixies to stop them from putting a curse on Mascular, and because of how hopelessly the hair had tangled itself in the foliage it just wasn’t worth the trouble of trying to reel it all in, so they just got several pairs of very sharp scissors from Stan’s hairdressing salon, cut Mascular free, and left it for, oh, a bunch of birds to make nests or whatever.

As soon as the last strands had been chopped loose, Mascular turned and charged at his brother with a roar.

“YOU JERK! I’M GONNA-”

Before he could actually land a blow, Dan stepped between them, forcing him to stumble over his own hooves in an effort to come to an actual stop.

“ _Boss_ ,” he whined, “you _saw_ what he-”

“I know.” Dan leaned on the top of his axe. “But if the two of you are gonna fight, you’re gonna do it the right way. Everyone, move out!”

The troop of manotaurs tramped through the underbrush until they found a clearing that Dan thought was suitable; once they reached it, he had them form a circle around the edge of the clearing, with the two brothers in the center. Dan stood between them again, axe pointedly hefted onto his shoulder.

“Okay, here’s the rules,” he said. “You’re both gonna fight until you’ve had enough, and it’s gonna be _fists only_. No goring, no biting, no permanent damage. You got that?”

Mascular and Muscular glared at each other. “Got it.”

“Good.” Dan slowly stepped back, until he was at the edge of the clearing. He lifted his axe...and then let it drop.

“FIGHT!”

The two manotaurs charged at the same time, and went at it hammer and tongs. A couple of teeth went flying as they pounded each other.

_Ugh, what did I just say about doing permanent damage?!_

Dan shook his head and sighed. Then he refocused his attention on the brawl.

Neither of them was capable of getting the upper hand on the other, despite their best efforts. If Muscular seemed like he was going to finally pin down Mascular, seconds later he’d unexpectedly have the hooves kicked out from under him; by the same token, despite Mascular landing plenty of hits, none of them were enough to make Muscular stay down.

They knocked each other back and forth across the clearing for the better part of a couple of hours, until at last they were both too exhausted to fight any longer, and just collapsed on each other.

“Had enough?” Dan asked.

Nearly-identical groans were his only reply.

“Good.” He nodded to two other manotaurs; they went and helped their fallen comrades up. “You guys needa go home, or are you okay ta get back to work?”

Mascular groaned and rubbed at his swollen eye. “I can get back to work, boss.”

“Me too,” mumbled Muscular through an obviously-aching jaw.

Both of them looked like the worst of their anger had burned out; when Muscular reached over and punched his brother’s shoulder, it was a genuine friendly tap.

“Okay. Let’s move out!”

* * *

When the boards had been brought to the sawmill and Dan had sent a crew to deliver them, he checked one last time to make sure the idiots were okay, and then headed towards the cabin in the woods to check on another pair of idiots.

He got to the house-and found that a haunted mansion appeared to have exploded all over it.

The roof was dripping with cobwebs and Spanish moss at the edges, while the tiles themselves had turned black, with what looked like a lightning rod and a bunch of other mad scientist equipment sticking up from the highest peak. Several windows were broken in, and figures appeared in them out of the corner of your eye that disappeared as soon as you looked at them head on. Strange lights kept flashing on and off everywhere, and the yard was strewn with partial skeletons poking up out of the ground. And in the middle of all this was Stan, wearing what looked like the beginnings of a werewolf costume with a ragged flannel jacket and jeans over shaggy fur, gleefully pulling a barrel that was broken open at one end, making it leak a dark red liquid in such a way that it looked like something, possibly a badly damaged human body, had been dragged up to the front door of the house, and vanished inside never to be seen again.

“Hey Dan,” Stan greeted him as he finally lifted the barrel and set it upright just inside the doorway. “Don’t step in that; we got a lotta trick-or-treaters comin’ tonight.”

Dan moved his boots away from the “blood” trail and looked at him with amusement. “You gonna actually hand out any candy, or just scare the pants off these poor kids?”

Stan shrugged. “If any of ‘em are brave enough ta actually make it inside, they _deserve_ ta get candy.”

At that moment, an enormous vampire bat popped up from around the corner of the house; with a bloodcurdling roar he charged at Dan in his tiny black sneakers, flapping his great wings madly as he ran. Just before he could sink his fangs into the lumberjack’s leg and start draining his life blood, he snatched him up around the waist, turned him upside down, and subjected him to a round of merciless tickling that soon enough had the would-be predator giggling and squirming in his grasp.

When he was sure that he was no longer in danger of being attacked, Dan lifted Xander right side up, and tucked him into the crook of his arm. “Nice costume.”

“Thank you!” the boy chirped; he grinned, allowing Dan to see the set of plastic vampire fangs he was wearing as part of his costume.

“Shermie and Rebecca’re gonna take him trick-or-treating while we have all this goin’ on,” Stan said; as what seemed like almost an afterthought he dipped into the barrel and began smearing fake blood on his shirt.

“Mmm.” Dan set the little vampire bat on his shoulder.

“You wanna come, Dan?” Xander asked, looking down at him eagerly. “It’s Halloween in the summer, so you get Halloween candy in the summer! It’s awesome!”

Dan smiled. “Thanks, but I got plans already.”

Xander looked disappointed. “Awww…”

“Maybe I’ll catch up with you when I’m done, okay?” Dan patted his leg.

“You promise?”

Dan crossed his heart with a solemn expression. “I promise.”

After all, someone had to look after these people.

He stuck around for a while to help out with setting up further decorations, including an enormous Tesla coil Ford and Fiddleford had designed (not only did it create electricity, it also improved the pH balance of your hair and, as Stan had pointed out dryly, had the nice side effect of being a giant bug zapper).

Matilda showed up just as Dan was leaving, dressed in an outfit that consisted of a nice suit and a long ragged overcoat which had been both ripped in half, and then one half from each costume had been sewn together. Her hair was tucked up under a giant top hat, one half of which had been painted black and made all ragged and beat-up looking, and she had painted half of her face so it was wearing a wide, insane-looking smile. She’d even rubbed her eye to make it bloodshot, with dark makeup around it so it became shadowed, and in her hand she was clutching an old-fashioned walking stick.

“I’m Dr. Jekyll _and_ Mr. Hyde!” she announced proudly when Dan saw her.

“Whoa. That’s even better than your Van Gogh costume.”

Matilda grinned and bowed, even flipping her top hat. Which, of course, resulted in all her hair falling loose. “Dang it!”

Dan laughed and helped her pin it back into place.

“So, you got any plans for the evening?” he asked when they finished.

“Well, I was gonna hang around here and watch the Pineses terrorize small children.” She snickered. “What about you?”

“I’ll probably haveta miss it. I promised ta watch the kid while he goes trick-or-treating, after I...go do something.”

Matilda understood at once; her expression turned more solemn. “Oh.”

Dan gave an embarrassed shuffle and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You wanna do it alone, or do you want me to come?” She put a gentle hand on his arm.

“Just me.”

Sometimes it helped to bring her along, made it a little less painful. Or to bring Eli and/or Forrest. But none of them had known them like he did, so it didn’t feel quite the same.

“Okay.” Unexpectedly Matilda wrapped her arms around him, held him as tight as she could. Dan hugged her back, and ended up lifting her all the way off her feet. When he finally set her down, it was so he could pull her into a quick kiss.

She giggled. “You, uh, got a little smear on one side of your face now.”

Dan just wiped it onto his sleeve, before he said, “Tell the dorks I’ll see ‘em later.”

He went to his cabin first, where he grabbed a bottle of scumble which had been aged to perfection. Then, as almost an afterthought, he also grabbed a couple of chocolate bars, which he stuffed into his pocket. Then he headed to the Gravity Falls cemetery.

* * *

In a private plot in the poorer section of the cemetery there sat two particular tombstones, a bit nicer than the ones surrounding them. They were carved with the names Charles Archibald and Brody Matheson Corduroy. The dates of birth were a few years apart...but the death dates were the same.

Neither of the differences between the sets of dates were all that long.

Dan plodded up to them solemnly, and put a chocolate bar right next to each grave.

“Hey guys. Got ya somethin’ for Summerween.”

He opened the bottle of scumble, and then solemnly tipped out a bit of it onto the two graves. Then he tilted the bottle upright, and almost had a swig of it himself...until he remembered he was going to help Xander go trick-or-treating.

Dan put the lid back on the bottle, and finally just set it between the tombstones. “Watch over that for me, wouldya?”

He sat down on a bench in front of them.

“...So. I know it’s been a while since I came ta visit. There’s been a lotta crazy sh-stuff that’s gone on since then. There were these smoky things that like ta feed on your pain…”

He told them all about the incident with the pain-eaters, and then what had happened with Bill.

“...You’d really like these guys, Chuck. Especially Stan. He’s a boxer; I bet he’d be a match for you.” Dan smiled a little. “I’ve tried convincin’ him ta help me out with logging sometime, but he says that sounds too much like actual work.

“Of course, Ford’s not much better. I don’t think the dork’s ever had a real job in his life; he just lives off his brains. And coffee.” The smile widened. “There was this one time when he had so much caffeine in his bloodstream he thought it’d be a great idea ta build a copy machine that can duplicate people…”

It was almost seven by the time he finished telling that story. Dan looked down at his watch and grimaced.

“I gotta go. Their nephew asked me ta go trick-or-treating with him, and whenever I leave them alone for too long I come back and find they’re about ta blow up the world or get eaten by dragons or somethin’.” He got up and brushed off the seat of his pants.

As he was turning away, though, Dan paused and glanced back at the graves of his brothers.

“...You guys know I’m not tryna replace you with them, right? I know I couldn’t ever do that. I just...someone’s gotta look after those idiots. And it feels like I’m the best guy around here that’s qualified for the job.”

Of course, there was no reply. Because even if Chuck and Brody could have come back as ghosts, most likely they’d be stuck somewhere in Vietnam.

Dan swallowed a sudden lump in his throat, and then turned with only a soft, “See ya around.”

As he went back to where he’d parked the truck, the wind rustled through his hair, in a way that almost felt like someone ruffling it. Maybe he was imagining it, but it did make his heart feel a little less heavy as he drove away.

**Author's Note:**

> At the risk of being presumptuous...
> 
> *Sets out a few boxes of tissues just in case*


End file.
